


One Way Ticket

by bookmarksorganization



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 1920s, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Demon!Aziraphale, M/M, Role Reversal, Train Ride, angel!Crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-26
Updated: 2020-03-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:34:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23326321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookmarksorganization/pseuds/bookmarksorganization
Summary: This is a short piece inspired by Ali Franco'sOne Way Ticketwith a demon!Aziraphale and angel!Crowley having a short conversation on a train.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 31





	One Way Ticket

“This is a terrible idea,” Crowley said, looking down at the book he’d set open and face down on his lap. He had a bookmark in his bag. Careless.

“Darling, relax,” sighed Aziraphale, who was gazing out at the passing scenery. He’d caught what Crowley was already considering—if he could maybe switch compartments or work out anything less conspicuous than the two of them sitting together. “You’re only risking calling attention to us. Would you like a sfogliatella? I had some boxed up for the trip.”

“You’re going to get sugar everywhere. I can’t believe I didn’t check in with you. When’s the last time we ended up on the same trip?”

“Fifteenth-century, if memory serves,” said Aziraphale, turning around, then. His face was very close. His pupils were pinpoints of darkness in that wash of sea-colors, made more striking by the heavy application of kohl. 

Crowley realized he was staring and shook himself—focused instead on the deep green of the demon’s jacket and on his pale, soft hands, tipped with nails just a bit too strong and sharp for human comfort.

“It was Italy then, too,” Crowley murmured. He sighed, closed his book properly—forgetting to mark his place in the process. “This is a mess. What do they even have you doing?”

“Anti-propaganda effort is the short of it. There’s plans to start showing newsreels ahead of films in cinemas. I’m to gum up the works. What about you?”

“Helping some efforts of the Communist Party in Rome, for whatever good it might do. They’re all in a strange time, aren’t they?”

Aziraphale had twisted his mouth in distaste, but he brightened as a new thought occurred. “Well, we could do some sightseeing, since we’re together.”

“Not a good idea.”

“You’re no fun.”

“Fun?” Crowley huffed, exasperated.

“Yes.”

“Now is not the time for ‘fun.’ We’re going to have to be extra careful—not to call undue attention our way.”

“Darling, one hates to make assumptions—” Crowley snorted at that and Aziraphale smacked him in the arm. “Don’t interrupt. One hates to make assumptions, but your paranoia really has taken an uptick in the past hundred years or so.”

Crowley felt his face fall. “You’ve mentioned as much plenty of times now.”

“Can’t I worry about you?”

“No, you’re a demon. You’re not supposed to worry about an angel,” he said, unhappy.

“I think,” Aziraphale said, reaching out to grab Crowley's tie, leaning closer. “I can do what I like.”

Crowley held himself very still. “Aziraphale.”

Aziraphale pulled the tie free of the sweater vest. “Yes?”

“Nothing.”

Aziraphale paused. He let the tie drop and flopped back into his seat with a sigh. “Far be it from me to distract from what might have been an actual conversation.”

“I wouldn’t be telling you anything you don’t already know.”

“I can’t live out an eternity worrying about Hell’s punishment, Crowley.”

“They’d destroy you,” Crowley said, voice soft.

“You’re taking the same risks.”

“I am, and I worry.”

“Well, I can’t top up a thermos with hellfire for you, I’m afraid.”

The words hit Crowley with a strange amount of force—a shock through his corporation. He turned. “You’d do that?”

Aziraphale frowned, seemingly confused. “Of course.” He searched Crowley’s face, and Crowley felt lost. “You didn’t know that?”

A million thoughts were running through Crowley’s head, and _feeling_ and he was reaching out to take Aziraphale’s hand before he could stop himself.

“You—”

“I don’t know what you’re asking but you can assume the answer is yes.” Aziraphale held Crowley’s hand in both of his as he sat beside him, so calm. 

“Just try to enjoy the countryside,” the demon said, looking back out the window.


End file.
